


Toujours Pur, My Arse

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_creatures, Creature Fic, Creature: Veela, F/M, Sirius Black Lives, Veela, de-aged sirius black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: In October of 2001, the veil spits a de-aged Sirius Black out. Meeting Hermione Granger for a second time proves to be interesting.





	Toujours Pur, My Arse

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** 54  
>  **Creature:** Veela  
>  **Disclaimer:** This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.  
>  **Notes:** Thank you so much for the last minute beta work, ravenclaw-sass. And for weestarmeggie, who looks everything I write to make sure it's not garbage. I sincerely hope you like this. It was my first foray into sirimione.

_Halloween, 2001_

There was no doubt in her mind that Sirius Black had left this world on that night in the Department of Mysteries when he fell through the veil. She’d been there to witness the moment that Harry’s heart had broken, and she pulled him away from the Death Chamber because she feared he was going to jump through the veil after his godfather. 

Still, if she could maintain hope through a war, Hermione wasn’t surprised when hope bubbled up once more. When the news came, she’d been sitting round the table at the Burrow, laughing at something George had said - a joke told in two parts where he did both, but she knew one of them should have been Fred. As he delivered the punch line, Molly burst into the kitchen, gasping and clutching her proverbial pearls. 

"Mum?" Ginny asked warily, her eyes flickering towards the Weasley clock, as did Hermione’s. She could never quite break away from Fred’s hand, or accept that it was forever stuck on _‘mortal peril’_. This wasn’t the time to give it any thought, but she never understood why it wasn’t taken down. Knowing how deeply it wounded his loved ones, she had always believed it hindered closure. Biting her bottom lip, Hermione stood from the table. "Molly, is Arthur okay?" 

It was the first person she thought of, the Weasley patriarch, and when Molly nodded there was a collective sigh of relief. Percy was at the Ministry currently, and the biggest hazard for him currently was cutting his finger on a piece of parchment, or perhaps staining his newest pair of tweed pants - which, _yes,_ he insisted, _they did make him look professional._ Bill and Charlie were surely fine, though for the briefest moment Hermione wondered if Charlie had a bad encounter with a dragon at the sanctuary in Romania. 

"No," Molly spluttered, waving her hands around as if she were trying to make sense of what she meant to say. "You’ll think I’m batty, but it’s Sirius."

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together. "Sirius? As in Sirius Black?" he asked, an edge to his voice. "Molly, he has been dead for years now, what about him could possibly have you in such a state?" 

"He’s... well... Kingsley has just sent a Patronus, and I think it’s best you go to St. Mungo’s right away," Molly told them. 

Hermione wondered if there was some kind of chance the body had been recovered, and there could finally be a proper burial. "Harry, the veil released him this morning, but he’s not -" 

His eyes were dark as they narrowed from behind his glasses, his lips pursed together as he stood from the table. The legs of the rickety old chair screeched against the wood flooring. "Spit him out?" he repeated. "That’s impossible." 

Hermione looked from him to Molly and sighed. "Harry, as unlikely as it is, you should go see what this is about. Molly would never joke to you about this, especially not over someone as important to you as your godfather." 

"He’s not the same," Molly managed, but her eyes were still wide, as if she’d received the sort of news she couldn’t believe until she saw it herself. "I don’t know all of the specifics, but they say it’s as if he’s de-aged." 

Harry nodded, his chin jutting out as he clapped Ron on the back. "You coming, mate?" Ron nodded, and Harry looked to Hermione. "You too?" 

"Of course," she said softly, moving toward the Floo in the living room. "How do you feel about this?" Hermione asked him under her breath once the rest of the family couldn’t hear them, taking a handful of Floo powder in her hand. 

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don’t know. I suppose I’m not going to get my hopes up because I’ve accepted that there is no coming back from the veil. That Sirius is -" he broke off, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes with the bottom of his palms. "All I have to say is that if this is someone’s idea of a prank, I will destroy whoever came up with it." 

She nodded, stepping into the fireplace and looking back at her two best friends. "St. Mungo’s!" she shouted, disappearing in a blume of green smoke. Harry and Ron quickly followed, one after another. 

St. Mungo’s was hardly ever slow, but it was chaos all around them. Hermione recognized Aurors; Healers from other countries and Kingsley, who was running toward them. "I’m glad you could come so quickly," he told them, motioning for them to follow him down a corridor. "He’s in the critical care unit for the moment. Diagnostics tell us there’s nothing wrong with him, but we don’t want to take any chances either." 

They halted in the hallway before Harry could be led into a room with a nameplate on the outside of it, reading _S. Black._ "Forgive me if I don’t believe you, but what the fuck are you talking about? He asked accusingly. "You can’t expect me to go in there and-" 

"Harry," Kingsley began, his voice gentle, "I know it’s incredibly hard to believe, but do you think I would have called for you if I wasn’t completely sure? He’s not the same, and we have no idea to understand the long term effects of being on the other side of the veil for so long, but it’s him." 

Her friend sucked in a sharp breath, nodding and rubbing his palms on his trousers, as if her were trying to get the sweat off. "Alright then. De-aged, you say?" 

"Yes, his twenty-two-year-old self came through the veil this morning," Kingsley replied, and he held an arm out to stop Hermione and Ron from following Harry into the room. "Give him a moment first. It’s going to be a lot to take in." 

Hermione nodded, leaning her back against the wall. "What can you tell us, Minister?" she asked, fidgeting with her fingernails. "You said there’s no physical damage?" 

He nodded. "He’s in peak physical condition, but he’s his memories of the last twenty years. Before you ask me, there’s no knowing what caused it, but Unspeakables are working in the Death Chamber right now to uncover the cause of it." 

Hermione glanced up at Ron before looking back to Kingsley in horror. While Ron prattled on at her side about how this couldn’t have come at a better time, with Harry always being so glum on Halloween, she asked the question Kingsley must have been dreading. "Where do his memories stop? Does he remember that James and Lily died?" 

Slowly, and in time with a shout from inside the hospital room, Kingsley shook his head. 

Hermione went around him, throwing the door open to find Sirius throwing a decorative vase across the room. "- James? And Lily? They’re _both_ dead?" he hollered. Harry stood completely out of harm's way, but he was panicked as he looked to Hermione to help.

"Sirius?" she spoke softly, not at all prepared to take him in when he turned to look at her. And though she missed it, it didn’t go unnoticed by anyone else how his eyes softened when he saw her, and how he immediately dropped the glass that was in his hands to step toward her. "Maybe you should sit down so we can explain everything. I know it’s a lot to take in, and -" 

Her mouth clamped shut when he gripped her jaw gently, and tilted her head up to look at him. He was nearly a foot taller than her, and it was no mistake when he leaned down to get a closer look at her. Hermione’s cheeks were on fire as he nuzzled his nose in her hair, and she looked around in confusion. There was no mistaking that he smelled like sin and sex, and that she couldn’t have pulled away from him if she tried. 

"What is your name?" he rasped, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. 

Someone’s fingers knotted in her jumper as they yanked her backwards. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Ron, his face nearly as red as his hair and his jaw clenched. "What the fuck are you playing at, Black?" he sneered. 

She felt like she was missing something as she was ripped away from his body heat, and Hermione tilted her head to the side. "I’m Hermione, but I don’t think you remember me," she told Sirius, swatting Ron’s hands away. "Clearly you don’t because you would have never done that if you did. You should sit down." 

Sirius wasn’t looking at her. He glared at Ron, his eyes dark with an unbridled rage that she didn’t quite understand. "If you want to keep your hands attached to your body you’ll keep your fucking hands off of her," Sirius growled. 

Hermione turned to Ron. "I think you should step outside, Ron." 

"You can’t be serious," he grumbled, "he just had his mangy paws all over you, and you’re defending him? I don’t think you should be around him alone because he’s acting as if he has some sort of claim on you. And he’s only met you, or at least he thinks he has." 

It dawned on her rather quickly, and Hermione whispered for Harry to come over to her. "I think...I think I know what’s going on, but I would have to talk to him." She looked over her shoulder to see him still standing there, his fists clenched at his sides. "And I think that might be best done alone, but if you," 

Harry nodded. "If you think he’ll talk to you. He’s been pretty pissed since I came into the room. Yelling of how I look too much like James, and I have Lily’s eyes." He winced, squeezing his eyes shut. "I wish I had known how much he remembered before I came into the room." 

"Yes." She glared at Kingsley, who was mid-step of leaving the room. "That was apparently too much to ask. Give me five minutes alone with him; I’ll yell if I need help." 

Harry agreed, dragging Ron, who was still grumbling under his breath, from the room. The door shut with a soft click. 

"Sirius?" she called out, walking toward him. "Ron’s gone, alright? You don’t have to deal with him. Do you know what’s going on? Why did you react to me like that?" He shook his head and gripped her waist, sitting on the edge of the bed and setting her in his lap. "Oh, I don’t think this is a good idea," Hermione said quietly, peeking up to see the silhouettes of Ron and Harry outside of the frosted glass. 

He nuzzled her hair again, this time moving his head down where his lips skimmed her neck. "You smell delicious." 

She swallowed hard, staring straight ahead and right over his head while she prayed Ron didn’t throw the door open. If anything, this was proving her theory right. "Sirius, do you know if there is any Veela heritage in the Black family?" 

Sirius pulled back and she nearly hissed at the absence of the tip of his tongue moving along her collarbone. "Veela?" he asked, blinking once; then twice. "Not to my knowledge, but that bitch Walburga would have never admitted it even if there was." 

Hermione’s fingers moved along his broad shoulders, accidently moving the flimsy hospital gown and brushing against bare skin. There was a low rumble in this throat. "I heard of her; of the horrible person she was," Hermione whispered. "She’s dead." 

"Good fucking riddance." He laughed and his fingers dug into the small of her back. "May she burn in hell. Did I know you before?" 

Hermione was melting against him, completely overtaken by the scent of him, and she resisted the urge to rub herself against him. "Y-yes." She was embarrassed by the stutter, but being in a young Sirius Black’s lap was not something she knew how to handle. "I met you when I was in my third year at Hogwarts. You had escaped from Azkaban and you were tracking Peter Pettigrew down." 

"Peter?" He pulled back to look at her once more. "I don’t," 

Her heart broke in her chest. "Sirius, what is the very last thing you remember before falling into the Department of Mysteries this morning?"

His answer made bile rise in her throat. "The last thing? Dumbledore had just made Peter the Secret Keeper for James and Lily." When her face crumbled and her gaze dropped down at her lap, he tilted her head up once more. "Tell me." 

As if she could ignore him when he _commanded_ her, though she didn’t think he was quite in control of compulsion yet. "Peter betrayed you, and the Potters. He led Voldemort to them, and that’s how they were killed, on Halloween in 1981." Hermione couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, and she jerked when his fingers gripped her hips roughly. 

She didn’t mean to grind against him, and she certainly didn’t expect to feel his hard length pressed against her cunt through her jeans. "Tell me he’s dead." 

"He is. He died in Malfoy Manor during the war, when we were captured - Ron, Harry, and I. Pettigrew refused to strangle Harry, and there was a silver hand Voldemort had given him. The details aren’t important right now, but it sensed his disloyalty, and strangled him. Oh, yes-" Hermione broke off, realizing he couldn’t remember a war he’d never been alive for. "There was a second war. It came after you escaped Azkaban. Pettigrew was one of his most loyal followers." 

Still, he looked murderous. "You say you were captured?" He asked her. Her eyes widened as he brushed off the information that he’d been in Azkaban, and skipped straight to the second Wizarding War.

"Yes, but that’s a story for another time. I’m sure I’m already over the five minutes they gave me, and I really need to get to the bottom of this before they come charging in. When you saw me you visibly calmed down, even more so when you touched me, and when Ron yanked me away from you, you-"

Sirius cut Hermione off when he traced her bottom lip with his thumb. "Pouty," he mused, smirking. "when Weasley yanked you away," obviously he knew; the red hair was always a giveaway. "I wanted to tear him limb from limb." 

"And what about now?" Hermione asked, her voice incredibly soft. "Now that you have me in your lap? Because you’re clearly not interested in letting me go." 

He grinned, and it was if the breath had been knocked out of her. "Oh, love, I don’t think you want me to tell you what I’m thinking of when I have you in my lap." 

She gulped, partly because this was not something that had ever happened to her, and partly because she wanted to know exactly what is was he was imagining. Hermione was certain it was along the lines of what she was thinking; of casting a spell to keep the door locked while he tugged her jeans down and peeled her knickers - they were surely soaking now - off of her,

But as fate would have it she didn’t really have the chance, given that the door burst open. Harry didn’t say a word as he took in the sight before him, and really, he didn’t appear to be angry, more surprised. Ron stormed across the room to yank her out of Sirius’s lap, and before she could tell him to stop she’d already landed on the floor. 

"What the fuck are you doing, climbing into his lap like some kind of whore?" Ron snapped. "For Merlin’s sake, you don’t even know this Sirius!" 

The man - who she was already heavily suspecting was a Veela, though she was fucking sure now - towered over where she landed on her arse, and grabbed Ron by his throat. 

"Sirius, no!" she yelled, scrambling to her feet and ripping her wand from her pocket. "Let him down now! Harry, get over here." 

He rushed to her side, pulling on Ron’s shirt while Hermione attempted to coax Sirius into letting her ex-boyfriend go. "Sirius," Harry grumbled, trying to wedge his hand in between the two men and push him off, but he didn’t budge. 

"If you don’t let him go, I won’t come to see you again," Hermione said simply, and Sirius’s eyes snapped to hers. "Ron doesn’t know you’re a veela, Sirius, but if he did he wouldn’t have done this. It’s not his fault." 

"He’s a prick irregardless," Sirius snarled. 

She rolled her eyes. Sirius dropped Ron, rotating his wrist as if it were sore. Hermione knelt beside her friend. "Are you alright?" 

"I’m not dead," he grumbled, taking Harry’s hand to climb to his feet. "Veela? You’re sure?" 

"It’s the only thing that makes sense," she reasoned. "And it would make even more sense because there’s something I’ve read that while the Veela trait only shows when they find their mate, they can’t find their mate until they have reached maturity. Which would be one of the only things that could shed light on why he randomly fell through the veil this morning." 

Harry looked from her and to his godfather, who was the same age as all of them, and once more he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, this is bizarre," he muttered. "You want to run that by me again, Hermione? Sirius is a Veela, and you’re his mate?" he repeated, shaking his head when it didn’t seem to make any more sense than it had the first time he had heard it. 

"Well, I don’t know the second part for sure," Hermione rushed to say as Sirius stepped up behind her, his fingers moving along her hips. "Stop that," she muttered, smacking his hands away. 

Exhaling while shaking his head even still, Harry just put his hands up. "We can revisit whether you are my godfather’s mate later. Let’s just take this day by day."

* * *

Sirius moved into Grimmauld Place when he was released from St. Mungo’s, sharing his childhood home with Harry, who it had been left to. 

She hadn’t been to see him since their awkward encounter at the hospital, and while that was cowardly, she wasn’t ready to admit just how out of control she was around him. Sirius Black was trouble, but not the kind she was used to. For Merlin’s sake, she’d gone through an actual war, wrought with battles and Malfoy Manor, and the night terrors that followed. 

She didn’t have any other choice but to admit that Sirius had been attractive when she’d known him, even though he’d just spent twelve years in Azkaban. But this much younger version of himself was intoxicating. Hermione could vividly recall how he smelled to her, how he felt below her. She kept up with the Daily Prophet, and with that awful gossip column Skeeter penned. 

Sirius Black was constantly mentioned in that column, and he’d already been brought up in Witch Weekly because his last name was Black and he was from an old Pureblood family. With each photograph placed in either instalments Hermione wanted to go to him, knowing she would have to at some point because she was hardly ever wrong, and there was little doubt in her mind that she was his mate, through cruel twists of fate and time. She learned from yesterday’s newspaper that the damn near first thing he’d done was purchase a motorcycle, and she stifled a laugh at that headline until she saw him the photograph of him riding it. 

Looking down at the full cover spread while she sat curled up in her chair, Hermione traced her fingers over the photo of him, lingering on his tattoos. It was a cold day at the beginning of November, and she’d moved her chair in front of the fireplace in her flat. 

When the Floo sounded, roaring to life, she snatched her wand and put the fire out before whoever it was could come through. When Sirius stepped out of her fireplace, brushing Floo powder from his hair, his boots sounding heavily against her floors, Hermione snapped her magazine shut. He hadn’t the chance to see just what she was enthralled by, surely.

"You nearly Flooed into my fire," she remarked, setting Witch Weekly on her coffee table as she stood, wobbling as her foot was almost asleep. "You could have knocked on the front door." 

"Yeah, I would have, but Harry wouldn’t tell me where you lived and Weasley tried to stun me when I asked him," Sirius muttered, shoving his hands into his front pockets. "He’s fine by the way. Only slightly maimed." 

She groaned, folding her arms over her chest. "What does that even mean?" 

He smirked, looking around her flat, his eyes lingering on her bedroom door. It was ajar, showing the edge of her unkempt bed from his vantage point. "It means I broke his nose." He shrugged. "Molly was healing it when I left. That woman does not like me." 

"It might have something to do with the face that you broke her child’s nose, Sirius. What are you doing here anyway?" 

"I wanted to talk to you." He replied, rocking back on his heels. "Not about this, or whatever the fuck this is. I really don’t know. I was never told of any Veela blood in the Black family, but they basted everyone off the family tree that didn’t meet their expectations, so I’m not surprised. I spoke with Fleur on the Floo; she’s just as certain as you are." 

Hermione nodded. "Yes, well, I didn’t think I was wrong. Have a seat," she muttered, feeling like that was all she ever told him. Hermione sat on the far end of the couch while he sat at the other end. "What would you like to talk about?" 

"I’ve spent the last week learning about the last twenty years, and it’s a lot to take in. As much as he cares, Harry is shite at comfort." 

She snorted. "Too true, but he cares and I’m sure he’s horrified that all of this is new to you. The losses and just… everything really. Did he tell you everything?" 

Sirius swung his arm over the back of her couch. "Everyone is dead," he told her bluntly, not meeting her eyes. "James, Lily, and Remus. I won’t even include Pettigrew because he’s a bastard and the times spent with him were wasted. You're the first person I thought of that I wanted to be around." 

Her eyes stung as they watered. "Oh," she murmured. "I’m so sorry, Sirius. I don’t know what to say." 

"Harry had a Pensieve, and I used it," he continued, tapping his fingers against the cushions. "I sat through and watched every single horrific event my best friend’s child went through, and that should have been the worst part. I should have been more upset for him, and I wasn’t." 

She blinked. "I don’t follow." 

He laughed, a low sound that came from this throat. "Yeah, I suppose I’m not being clear. I _was_ angry when I had to sit there while that fucking cunt Umbridge made him write lines on his hand, and then I realized there is a glamour laying over his hand to cover the scars." 

She wrinkled her nose, laying her head against the cushions while she brought her knees up to her chest. "She really is a foul woman," Hermione said. "One of the several awful things the Ministry did was letting her into Hogwarts." 

"And then watching the three of you go through a war, and living while on the run." 

She sucked in a breath. "Sirius…" She trailed off, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers were white from clutching the cushion where his hand rested. "It’s over. It was a horrible part of our lives, but Harry is okay." 

"I’m not fucking worried about Harry right now, Hermione," he growled. Hermione blinked. "You. You’re all I could think about when I watched those memories. When Harry broke the taboo..." 

"Oh, God, Sirius, it was an accident. It was a mistake," Hermione insisted. "I’m fine. I’m here, aren’t I?" She tried to smile, she did, but a grimace spread across her face because she knew what he must have seen next. "The Snatchers," she said simply. 

"Bellatrix," he replied, and her heart sank. Hermione hung her head, her eyes straying toward her covered arm. "If she weren’t already dead, I would kill her," he stated. "You fought in the final battle." 

She nodded. "Yeah, we all did. It was all or nothing then." She paused, and then "Did you learn everything you wanted to know, then?" 

"Do you have a Pensieve as well?" he asked her, and she pointed toward her bedroom. "Would you be open to letting me use it to view your memories?" 

Her mouth was dry. "Why? What could you possibly want to see of me?" she asked, and when he looked to her left arm, she knew. "I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s no need in bringing up the past anymore." 

Sirius scooted closer to her, grabbing her hand and sliding his fingers through hers. "Does it still haunt you? Do you relive it in your nightmares?" he asked softly, bringing the pads of her fingers to his lips. "You don’t have to do that alone." 

Hermione looked down at him, taking in how vulnerable he looked and how he’d come to her simply because he wanted a degree of closeness. "If it’s going to hurt you, I don’t want you to look, Sirius. I think it’s obvious it isn’t pleasant. I still have the scar." Hermione rolled up the sleeve of her jumper, reaching over to take her wand from the table and vanishing the glamour wordlessly. 

It had healed over time to the point where it was smooth. The skin was no longer raised and inflamed, but the slur stood out against her pale skin. _Mudblood_. She held her forearm out to Sirius, nodding when he moved to grip her forearm. His touch was soft, and Hermione looked away when his lip curled in disgust. "I know it’s an ugly-" she began, pulling her arm away, but he stopped her. 

"I’m not upset with you, nor do I think you’re ugly because of it," he whispered, pressing his lips against the marred flesh, and it felt like flames lapping against her skin. "And if it is alright with you, I would like to see the Pensieve." 

It was an awful lot to ask of her, to share something so private and brutal. It took one look at him to realize he understood what he was asking; the ramifications of it, and all it took was one look for her to nod. Hermione stood from the couch, offering him her hand and leading him into her bedroom. She padded across the carpeted floor barefoot, pushing her door open and pointing towards her dresser. 

"If you’re sure," she told him. "I’ll be right here when you’re done." Hermione told him, leaning against the chest of drawers. 

There were no words exchanged as she set it up so he would see the only memory he was looking for, and when Sirius leaned over the basin. It was a much smaller one than the one Harry owned, or the one used by the Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses. 

His hand curled into a fist as it rested on top of her dresser, and Hermione reached out to cover it with her own hand, squeezing it to remind him she was still beside him. 

When Sirius had viewed the memory from beginning to end, he stumbled away from the Pensieve, and from her. She gripped her opposite arm, folding her right arm over her chest as he took her in as if she were a completely different person. 

"I told you it was gruesome. Maybe not as much as other things that happened during the war, but," 

"You lied to her," he breathed. "Under the torture, you still lied to her face." 

She looked away, not at all willing to sink back into those memories again. "Well - yeah," she said weakly. "Was there really another option? I couldn’t tell her I had stolen one of his horcruxes. And-" Hermione broke off as he stepped closer to her, reaching up to wrap one of her curls around his fingers. "I didn’t want to tell the bitch anything. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to die without a fight. Telling her the truth probably would have led to me being killed before we had the chance to escape," Hermione finished, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. 

He cupped her face, and his eyes had grown darker as his gaze raked over her. "I think you might be the bravest woman I’ve ever met, apart from Lily," he murmured, and a shiver went through her as her eyes widened. 

"Lily Potter died to save her child," she whispered. "I am not -" 

"You’re the same kind of brave" he told her roughly. "You’re brave and you’re courageous, and so goddamned brilliant." 

Hermione laughed. The loud sound was jarring against the silence in her bedroom, and a smile spread across his lips. "Did you learn that this week too?" 

"I read about you quite a bit, Hermione Granger, recipient of the Order of Merlin First Class." He grinned, his thumb stroking across her cheek bone. "Quite the hero, you are." 

Staring back at him, she could feel her cheeks heat up. "I did the right thing, and I don’t think I need an award for that," she murmured, smiling when he grumbled that she was too humble. 

His smile broadened when she leaned into his touch. "I’m going to kiss you," Sirius told her. "Unless you object to that." 

"Gods, yes," she whispered. 

The frame on her dresser toppled over when he pushed her against it, tipping her chin up with his knuckle as his other hand dug into her hair. Clad in her ratty joggers and a loose fitting jumper, she looked like the last woman on earth that would be ravished. 

Hermione slid her palms up his chest to wind her arms around his neck, and she kissed him back feverishly. It was clear what was coming, and she knew it. Not that she had any complaints when the heat of his body was seeping through her clothes. The description of his scent in the St. Mungo’s hospital room - where she had thought he smelled of sin and sex - it was intoxicating as she pressed herself closer to him. Hermione pulled at his hair, tugging roughly when he growled. 

Sirius’s tongue slid against the seam of her lips before he kissed her thoroughly. She’d been snogged before, but she realized now that none of them were quite as experienced as Sirius: a fact that made her dizzy as she wondered whether she would live up to the women he’d been with before her, and if- 

He pinched her nipple through her shirt, drawing a loud whine from her. "Come back to me, love. You’re thinking too much." Sirius kissed down her jawline, and down her neck. "Good girl," he murmured into her neck when she tipped her head back. His tongue sliding over her sensitive flesh and he bit down where her neck met her shoulder. 

Hermione shivered, clinging to him and whimpering his name loudly. "Bed," she gasped, pushing him backwards when she placed her hands on his chest. His t-shirt was tight over his torso and she could feel the hard ridges of his abdomen beneath her fingertips as they trailed lower. Hermione gripped the hem of his shirt, struggling - embarrassingly so - to pull it over his head. Just when she was about to vanish it, Sirius grabbed the collar of his shirt behind his neck, tugging it over his head. 

The act shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, but watching his muscles contort as he did so, Hermione shoved him onto her bed. He was grinning playfully as she straddled his waist, leaning over him with her curls in a complete disarray around her, and she pressed her lips to his again. Nipping his bottom lip this time, Hermione laced her fingers through his and held his hands over his head. 

The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight. Sirius kissed her roughly, still in control despite giving her the illusion that she was the one in charge, and then he rolled her onto her back. Sirius hovered over her, parting her legs by wedging his knee in between them, and pinned her hands above her head. 

"Fucking Merlin, you smell delicious," he growled, and she’d heard it before, but she was throbbing at his words now. When his knee pressed against the apex of her thighs, Hermione grinded against him, desperate for the friction. "You look so fucking innocent," he told her, letting go of her hands. 

Hermione watched as his hands moved to the hem of her jumper and she nodded quickly, sitting up half way as he tore it over her head. His eyes fell to her breasts, encased by a lacy bra that Ginny had bought her, and only because she insisted that every girl needed something to feel pretty in. 

He grabbed her wrists once more, this time pinning to them to her sides while he kissed down her neck and over her collarbone as he moved his lips to her breasts. His slid between the edge of her bra and her flushed skin, and Hermione shuddered beneath him, her back arching. The low laugh that escaped him made her shiver; this was a man who knew what he was doing, how to tease her, and how to make her melt. 

"Sirius," she gave a throaty whine that sounded nothing like her as she hooked her legs around his hips, digging her ankles into the dip at the bottom of his back. "You’re teasing." 

Merlin help her, he laughed, and then he tugged her bra down by hooking one finger around the middle, and her breasts spilled out of the black cups. "Fuck me," he growled. 

She couldn’t really help herself when she murmured, "I’m trying." 

He snorted, letting his head fall to her chest while he laughed. His hands loosened on her wrists - even though it was a pleasant experience to be held down - and Hermione took the chance to wind her fingers through his hair, her nails mistakenly scratching his scalp. She didn’t know what she expected, but him rolling off of her was not it, and she pouted. 

"Don’t look at me like that," he said, crooking his finger and motioning for her to come to him. "Come here, love." 

The endearment made her feel warm. Hermione crawled across the bed to him, happily climbing into his lap, which was quickly turning into her favorite place to be. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her bra, throwing it into the floor. 

His hand was flat against her back, his fingers splayed over the heated flesh as he pushed her closer to him. Perhaps it was the way it seemed like it was a perfected move, one that he had done several times, _or_ it might have been the way he shifted her to rest on his knee, raising it so he could capture his nipple in his mouth. Sirius moved his knee, practically bouncing her on it, and it created the most delicious friction she thought she’d ever felt. 

It might have been because he was Veela in part. Hermione had wanted him before, when they were just sitting on her couch and discussing the war. The protectiveness he’d shown made her feel safe, and this, this was just all of her outward feelings amplified. But you couldn’t enhance what wasn’t there. 

"Enough," she grumbled. " _Accio wand._ " While she probably could vanish their clothes wandlessly, she wasn’t eager to fuck up because he concentration was so clearly divided. 

Sirius stared at her when suddenly it was bare skin to bare skin, and he looked like he was going to lose the little bit of self-control he had. "Fucking Merlin, you are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen." He shifted her in his lap once more, and she was still happy to let him show her what it would be like with someone more experienced. Nothing against her previous partners, she would have clarified, but then his fingers were _there._

She sucked in a breath, gasping, and clutching his shoulders - her nails digging into his skin. "Oh," she moaned, her head falling backward when his fingers moved tentatively against her clit, as if he were testing what she liked, but Hermione thought he was trying to draw out her reactions. 

"Do you like when I touch you here, Hermione?" he asked her roughly, his fingers applying more pressure to the sensitive nub, but he didn’t move any faster. 

She nodded, running her fingers through her curls before choking out, "faster, Sirius, please." 

Hermione didn’t know how many times he was going to move her into different positions - not that she minded, but she wasn’t sure how anything else could live up to this experience already. She found herself with her back to his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist while he leaned against her headboard. Looking down, she noticed she was much shorter than him, his legs stretching farther down the bed. 

She was brought back out of her daydreams by him nuzzling her neck, nipping the skin there while she whimpered. "Can you spread your legs for me, Hermione?" he rasped directly into her ear. 

Her breath caught. Had anyone ever told her something like that before? The answer was no, definitely no, and even if they had she wasn’t sure it would have made her feel this hot. Without replying - really her actions were her reply, no need for talking - Hermione did as he asked, parting her legs and resting her feet on either side of his legs. 

His left hand toyed with her nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers. "You’re so fucking pretty like this," he told her, sliding his hand down her stomach, and then his fingers were sliding through her folds again. "You robbed me of the chance to see you in your knickers. Were they lace as well?" 

She nodded, dizzy. "It’s the only set I own; I’ve only ever worn it because it made me feel nice." A shriek tumbled from her lips when he slid a finger slowly inside of her. He was careful, and normally she would have appreciated it, but not now. "I’m not the type of girl to wear lingerie." 

"I couldn’t give a fuck what you’re wearing. You could be wearing a bag and I’d still look at you like you the most beautiful woman I’d ever met." His words, and the feeling of him were overwhelming. 

Hermione clutched his forearm, which was now settled over the tops of her breasts. "Sirius, I think-" 

"Gonna come for me, love?" he asked her, rubbing her clit faster while her legs fucking trembled. "Let go, Hermione. Just let go." 

It was, by no exaggeration, the most intense orgasm of her life. She screamed - a little fact that she thought was reserved for trashy romance novels, but that was so clearly incorrect -, clinging to him and begging for she didn’t know what. "Sirius," she gasped, her hips jerking when he pressed feather light touches to her clit after she’d come down from her high. "I want to do that to you." 

He chest shook with laughter, and she already knew what this Marauder was going to say. "Well, I don’t have-" 

"If you even think about finishing that sentence, I will not be putting your cock in my mouth." Hermione tried to sound stern, but all she did was giggle when he fell silence. Now that she wasn’t distracted by her own pleasure, she realized she could feel every inch of him, and his cock was hard, pressed against the curve of her arse. 

"Oh, I think we’ll have plenty of time for that later," he told her as she turned to face him, her knees digging into the mattress while she reached to take his hard cock into her hand. A hiss slipped between his teeth when her thumb stroked across the tip. 

Hermione peeked up at him. "Or now," she breathed, wrapping her fingers around it, stroking his cock as she bent down to swipe her tongue across the tip. She was tentative with her touches, completely unsure of herself. In the handful of lovers she’d had, she still didn’t know if each man liked basically the same thing, or if it was like starting all over, and really, this was a terrible idea. She felt like she was going to make a fool of herself. 

"Teeth," he hissed, his fingers sliding through her curls; her hair was knotted after writhing against the sheets. 

Sliding her tongue against the underside of his cock, and slowly taking his length into her mouth, Hermione watched him in awe. His eyes drifted shut and he bit his bottom lip as if he were holding back. 

But it wasn’t long before he guided her lips back up to his own, his fingers still securely in her hair, and he kissed her. Hermione was lightheaded against him, grabbing at his shoulders as his erection was pressed against her cunt. Gasping and rubbing herself against him, she shuddered at the growl that came from him. "I’ll fuck you if you don’t stop that," Sirius told her, his voice raspy, and he grasped her breasts, stroking across their centers with his thumbs. 

Hermione rolled her hips against him once more, nibbling her bottom lip and cupping his face in her hands. She kissed him this time, rougher; drawing his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging slightly. "I want you," she murmured, reaching between them to position his cock where she could have just slid down his throbbing length. 

He stopped her, catching her hand and sliding his fingers between the spaces of hers. "They told me you were impulsive in some aspects." Sirius smiled, a wry curve of his lips that didn’t fit in at all with how rugged he looked, with the cut lines of his abdomen or the way his entire body was hard against hers. 

She rolled her eyes. "What they should have told you is how I go after whatever I want." 

It was torture, the silence that followed, and the way his eyes were dark, roaming over every inch of her naked skin as she waited. "I have to ask if you’re sure. I don’t think this was what you expected this time last week." 

"I wouldn’t change it." Hermione sighed when his fingers pressed against her clit once more. "Sirius, really, I’m happy right here. So, please-" It must have been the way her voice broke on the plea, because suddenly Hermione’s back met the soft mattress. 

Sirius hovered over her, his palms flat on either side of her head as he dipped his head lower. He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, biting the skin not softly, though not so harshly it hurt, and Hermione _knew_ it was so anyone who came near her would realize she was his. The marking as if she were his territory should have bothered her, but it hadn’t. Dragging his lips between the valley of her breasts, Hermione’s breath caught. 

Heat pooled between her legs as he didn’t break eye contact while lifting her legs to rest in the bend of his elbows, and he pulled her closer to him. The tip of his cock brushed against her folds; rubbing against her sensitive clit, and she shuddered, her fingers digging into the sheets. "Sweet circe," he whispered, parting her folds. 

"What?" Hermione gasped, and while the feeling of being completely exposed bothered her, it was nothing compared to way he gazed upon her with hooded eyes. 

"You need me so badly, don’t you, love?" Sirius asked her, slowly sliding two fingers inside of her. "You’re swollen, you need me to slide inside of you so badly." His fingers curled inside of her and she whimpered. "Just a little more for me," 

She shook her head. "I need you inside of me," she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation of his fingers fucking her slowly, and his thumb brushing oh so lightly over her clit. "Sirius," she choked out. 

He was smirking, gripping his dick in his other hand and slowly stroking himself while Hermione laid before him. "If I asked you to do it, could you come one more time for me before I give you what you want?" 

Hermione’s mouth fell open. "You must - you must be joking. Sirius, I feel as if I’m going to fall apart if I can’t have you, and-" Her mouth snapped shut, and she looked over him curiously. "Why?" 

"I want you to come over my tongue," he said simply, and she hadn’t even realized she’d nodded until he was moving down her bed, his hair falling into his face as he bent down. 

Sirius settled her legs over his shoulders, and when he inhaled the scent of her, kissing the top of her pussy, she pushed herself toward him, hiding her face behind her hands when he grinned. The tip of his tongue pressed against her clit softly, flicking the small nub while she squirmed under him. 

"Fuck!" she moaned, her head falling back, though she was trying to watch him. Two fingers slid inside of her, thrusting into her quicker than they had before, and she gripped his hair tightly. "Sirius," she moaned as his tongue flattened against her clit. 

She had expected him to be slow; to drag this out, but he didn’t. She was grateful as she begged for more, though she didn’t know what more could even be, or if she could even handle it. Compared to previous partners, he _was_ the best she’d ever been with. All it took was a few well-placed touches, and he had her. 

Hermione’s back arched from the bed and she definitely screamed his name, gasping as she clenched her legs shut without meaning to. "Sirius, Sirius." Maybe she was babbling his name incoherently, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black with desire. When he was on his knees in front of her, sliding her legs over his broad shoulders once more, she could only say, "Please." 

He moved against her, sliding inside of her in one thrust, and she dug her fingers into her hair, moaning at the delicious feeling of him stretching her. He was fairly larger than her ex-lovers. "You are so-" Sirius cut himself off, groaning when he withdrew from her and slid into her once more. "Perfect. Divine. I don’t know," he murmured, turning to press a kiss to her ankle. 

"Oh, my God," she moaned as he slammed into her, her breasts bouncing, and each of his movements had her gasping for air. "Sirius..." 

He gathered her up in his arms, seemingly not at all content to leave her with her back against the sheets. Caging her in his arms in what she would have thought an impossible position, since her legs were _still_ resting over his shoulders while he held her up. His cock was thick, and feeling him pound into her was easily the best thing she’d ever felt, if the scratches that would be on his back by the end of this said anything. 

"You’re gorgeous," he mumbled into her neck, gripping her by her waist and bringing her down on his cock even harder. "Like you were made for me." 

She whimpered at the feel of him, clawing at his shoulders. "Maybe I was," she muttered, meeting his eyes when he stilled for a moment. "I was made for you," Hermione whispered, wrapping long strands of black hair around her index finger at the nape of his neck. "Not even time could prevent that, or death, or anything else." 

Sirius growled, and it was the confession - though she knew it seemed illogical, but she could feel the truth of it in her bones; rattling inside of her as if it was something she’d always known. "There’s nothing I would let take you away." He admitted. 

"Can I - can we do this another way as well?" she gasped, blurting her question when he pinched her nipple. 

"I’ll give you anything," he rasped. 

Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest, slamming into her rib cage. "With me on my hands and knees," was all she managed to say before he slipped out of her, setting her down. Hermione turned around, knocking her hair from her face before leaning down. Her knees dug into the mattress and she rested on her arms, rather than her hands when he told her to. 

Sirius positioned his cock, moving his hand to her waist to thrust into her, but Hermione pushed herself back against him, sheathing him inside of her fully in one powerful stroke. 

Moaning, and moving herself back against him, her cunt clenched around his cock as he met her thrusts, dragging his nails down her back after she moaned the first time he did it. It had been an accident. "Sirius." It was all she could do to moan his name. Hermione couldn’t have strung a sentence together if she tried. She heard him when he muttered under his breath, his voice barely there, but she could hear him mutter how he’d forgotten the ‘bloody charm’, and as he began to pull away from her, she blurted, "I’m on the potion, so please - please don’t, Sirius." 

"Oh, thank _fuck,_ " he snarled, gripping her hips, and this time he slid into her so roughly that she fell forward, whimpering for more; for whatever he could give her, and she could feel him coming inside of her. His hands loosed around her waist, and Hermione dragged him down by his shoulders to lay beside her. "You’re-" 

She pressed her lips to his, rubbing her thighs together, desperate for friction even now, and the insides of her thighs were slick. "You are incredible," she breathed before kissing him again, and then she sighed. "I meant what I said - about being made for you, but it’s only fair that you were made for me as well." 

He grinned, a bright smile that stretched ear to ear. "I might be in love with you." 

She snorted, an indelicate sound as she shook her head. "You could buy a bird dinner first, at the very least, Sirius Black." But she was smiling. 

"You’re everything," he murmured, tipping her chin up to kiss her once more.

* * *

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of an anonymous fest. Reveals of authors and artists will be posted on 1st of November. Follow us on [TUMBLR](https://hp-creatures.tumblr.com/).


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